


dandelion wine

by elusetta



Series: pass the au(x) cord [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, F/F, Friendship, Tenderness, homoerotic hitchhiking, literally this is JUST what happens when i listen to gregory alan isakov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elusetta/pseuds/elusetta
Summary: A road trip, a friendship and some feelings.
Relationships: Alistair & Female Warden (Dragon Age), Leliana/Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: pass the au(x) cord [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837288
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	dandelion wine

**Author's Note:**

> This took me way longer than it should have and has not been edited, sorry for any mistakes!! Title is from Gregory Alan Isakov's This Empty Northern Hemisphere (which is wholly the inspiration for this fic.) Hope you enjoy; let me know your thoughts/feelings!

**new york**

The world’s a spinning mess of voices, bodies swirling around her and churning in a mass of black and white, when Iseult comes out of the airport. Cheese doesn’t pull on his leash, patiently waiting for her to make whatever decision comes next, but it isn’t until she hears a loud “Hey!” that she’s present enough to function. There he is. If she weren’t so shaken by the journey, she would have rushed to hug Alistair, a savior in a beat-up blue truck. As it is, she smiles briefly and walks to him. Cheese can resist the pull of a hundred random strangers, but the moment he sees Alistair he’s uncontrollable, yanking Iseult toward the man. Alistair greets him by kneeling, letting the dog jump on his shoulders and lick him all over the face.

Iseult just stands back, mildly amused. “Hello.”

“Sei! I didn’t notice you were here.” Alistair gets up and pulls her into a warm hug, and she returns it, standing on the tips of her toes to lessen the height difference. When he releases her, he jerks a thumb toward the bed of the truck. “Put your stuff there and get in. I can’t get out of this city fast enough.”

Iseult laughs. “I know the feeling.” With one strong movement she drops her suitcases in. “How have you found America?” she asks as she gets in, Cheese settling into the back.

“Oh, it’s _something._ You know I’ve been asked on nineteen dates just because I have a little bit of an accent? And the food is… well, you’ll see. I’m not letting the summer go by without bringing you to at least one sketchy burger joint.” He starts the car, and they begin the snail’s crawl that will eventually bring them out of the city.

“I can’t wait.”

Cheese yawns from the back seat, and Iseult begins the long task of interrogating Alistair about all the time she’s missed.

They’ve been driving for forty minutes when he finally announces that they’re out of NYC. Iseult can hardly see a difference. “It’s _big,_ ” Alistair says in defense, and then snorts at his own not-innuendo.

Iseult smiles indulgently, looking out the window at the sky that’s starting to go gray. It should be exciting, the thrill of an adventure in a new country lighting her up, but it all feels surreal. “Why _did_ you come here, Alistair?”

He pauses. “I told you. Sports. You know how I’m really good at this thing called American football?”

“Alistair,” she chides. “You could have stayed. The university wanted you to, and for that matter so did I. Why leave? You had every reason not to.”

He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, the characteristic hesitation of not wanting to dampen the mood settling in. He doesn’t want to hurt her, but Iseult fixes black eyes on him until he gives in; this is a dance they’ve done uncountable times, ever since they were children. It’s funny how little things have changed. “You know. What happened to Duncan… I had to go. Same reason you’re here now.”

Iseult watches as the sky grows heavy. “I suppose it is.” She wants to lean on his shoulder, gain the comfort they’re both so dependent on, but he’s driving, so she just reaches back and scratches Cheese behind the ears. “At least we’re together now.” They’ve always been a matched pair, and this, being next to him, feels better than anything has in months. He doesn’t reply, probably too busy trying to think of a quip that will lighten the air between them. “I love you, Alistair,” she says finally, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes he’s the second-to-last person that she does.

Cheese whines in the back seat. Their distress is getting to him. Alistair sniffs, then coughs out a sob. “I love you too, Sei.”

No more words need to be said. Despite the continued, quiet sounds of soft crying, the inside of the car feels comfortable.

Alistair keeps driving. The clouds break open, and the rain hisses when it falls on the street.

**pennsylvania**

Everything is green when they leave the suburbs, and it’s all so _open_ that Iseult wants to stick her head out the window just to revel in it. There are pastoral scenes from postcards dotted around, barns and silos and cows and horses, the occasional swath of forest, and though they have to stop (it’s been nearly four hours) Iseult somehow doesn’t want to. She _should._ Alistair has been complaining for almost twenty minutes about having to pee, but the thrill she hadn’t felt in the city was getting stronger here. Alistair catches her looking out the window wistfully and chuckles. “I know it’s tempting, but you _really_ can’t drop everything and become a farmer. Do you know, one of my professors used to be a farmer, and he says you have to watch out for people who’ll come to your farm and steal the cows for blood sacrifices. Disgusting business.”

Iseult snorts. “The things you learn with an occult studies major…” He pouts theatrically, and she laughs, getting out of the car with Cheese on her heels. “No, no, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” She offers a chivalrous hand to help him out. “It’s just not exactly a common area of study.”

“Neither is… God, what are you studying?” He doesn’t answer his own question, instead getting distracted by the array of T-shirts that read ‘I Visited Dirty Hank’s Gas And All I Got Was Scabies!’ displayed in the window of the gas station. 

As much as Iseult would like to join him, because there _has_ to be a story behind that, her attention is instead suddenly commanded by a woman who looks about her age slipping out of the station. She’s pretty, distractingly so, and just as Iseult is performing a cost/benefit analysis of flirting with her, their eyes meet. Immediately, every thought of flirtation is driven from Iseult’s head. The woman is _scared._ Viscerally, achingly scared. It's in her eyes brighter than the sunlight.

Before she can properly make a decision about what to do, Cheese makes a decision for her, trotting over to the woman and sitting, panting genially. Some of the fear evaporates from her, and she giggles (it’s a light, lovely thing) as she leans down to stroke him, fawning over him in the smooth tones of a language Iseult recognizes as French. 

Inwardly, Iseult curses herself for not keeping up with the language. She can comprehend a word or two, but the woman is quick, obviously a native speaker, and Iseult hasn’t been even conversationally fluent in a long time. Cheese gets up and gently takes the woman’s hand in his mouth, pulling her toward Iseult. Iseult stifles a grin. That dog was too smart for his own good. The woman doesn’t protest, and when Cheese releases her, when she is standing in front of Iseult too close to walk away, her demeanor is just a touch more confident.

“I’m sorry about him,” Iseult offers, patting Cheese on the head. “He can’t resist a pretty face.”

The woman examines her before smiling. “C’est bon. He’s the first friend I’ve had in a while.”

Iseult lowers her voice, wanting to touch the woman in an act of reassurance but refraining. “Are you safe? You seem afraid. I would be remiss if I did not try to help.”

The woman falters. “I, ah…” She looks around herself covertly, and seeing nothing of interest, lightens considerably. “M-my name is Leliana.” She can’t continue, something flashing in her eyes.

On impulse, Iseult reaches forward, taking her hand as gently as she can. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

“No,” Leliana responds, what fear remains in her melting away and leaving sadness in its place. “Nowhere.”

“Well, you do now,” Iseult says. Oh, Alistair will be horrified that she’s picked up a random woman off the street in the time it’s taken him to buy crisps, but it’s worth it. “I’m Iseult. If you want, you can come with me.”

She’s a total stranger. She shouldn’t trust her. But Leliana squeezes her hand anyway, smiling, her eyes damp. “I will.”

Alistair comes out of the station, meets Iseult’s eyes, and groans.

**ohio**

It’s less awkward than Iseult would have thought. Leliana takes up the seat next to Cheese, doting on him in soft tones whenever she isn’t talking to either of the other humans, and Alistair, though he teases Iseult about it relentlessly, warms up to Leliana almost as fast as she did. She’s got a quick wit and a wealth of stories, and she makes the time go faster.

They’re driving through an open field, the sun burning from the apex of the sky. The air conditioning in the truck is broken. Every window is wide open, and Cheese is trying to force his head out of the backseat and into the fresh air. Iseult can’t blame him. Even so, she pushes him back into his seat with a “bad boy! Bad dog!” whenever he tries (which is about once every twenty seconds at this point), and Alistair is wheezing with laughter.

“Come on, Sei, don’t be like that! Let him put his head out!” Alistair demands through bouts of hilarity.

“He’s a good boy,” Leliana chimes in. “He deserves it.”

Iseult sighs and lays back the next time he attempts it, and when he climbs over the seat, gets into her lap and sticks his head out of the window, snorting and panting in the wind, she gives Alistair a glare. “You know he isn’t going to leave until I make him.”

“Let him stay and I’ll let you pick the music,” Alistair says, smirking. 

Iseult’s glare weakens. “You hate everything I listen to.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m using it as a bargaining chip.”

“On behalf of the _dog?_ ” Iseult giggles, though she nods and plugs in the AUX cord before he can change his mind. Picking something from her library, she turns to face Leliana. “I hope you like musicals.”

“ _Goth_ musicals,” Alistair adds. “All of them end in death and horror.”

“That’s what makes them so good,” Iseult retorts, flicking him lightly on the shoulder.

At the first notes of _Think of Me_ coming through the speakers, Leliana perks up. “Do you mind if I sing?” she asks.

Given how beautiful her _speaking_ voice is, Iseult can’t say yes quickly enough. “Absolutely.”

“Bad singing’s what road trips are all about,” Alistair says.

Leliana smiles, waits for the lead-in, and opens her mouth, letting out the purest, most jaw-droppingly _perfect_ E major that Iseult has possibly ever heard.

Iseult suddenly can’t breathe. The car slightly swerves as Alistair turns around to stare at Leliana. She just basks in the attention, continuing to sing. It should damn well not be possible, the beauty of her voice. Even Cheese is enchanted, falling silent, turning to look at her and his ears swiveling to catch as much of the music as he can. Leliana’s vibrato is airy and effortless, but her voice is strong, the confidence of a trained singer ringing true.

Alistair’s heard the soundtrack enough times (unwillingly, but still) to know exactly when to chime in as Raoul, which he does, his untrained tone endearing against Leliana’s perfection. 

Time melts away. Iseult joins in when she can as the Phantom, playing up the drama of the part just to get a laugh out of her companions, and occasionally Cheese accompanies her, howling, which always sends the entire car into fits of giggling and causes them to lose half a song. There’s a warmth she can’t deny, can’t have enough of, deep and filling. Pastures pass them by, and they go from musical to musical, playing at theatrics the way Iseult and Alistair used to in secondary school.

The sky is beginning to darken.

**indiana**

“When Artemis realized what her brother Apollo had done,” Leliana says, pausing for dramatic effect, her voice bright against the star-studded sky, “she was enraged, and rightly so.”

“Apollo’s an ass,” Alistair provides.

Iseult laughs. The metal of the truck bed is cold under her, a blanket the only thing separating her body from the steel, but she and Alistair are curled together close enough to drive away the bite in the air. It’s easy intimacy, something she had missed more than she knew back in college.

Leliana smiles, the only one of them sitting up, and from her position laying down Iseult is entranced by the starlit curve of her lip when she smiles. “Quite. But siblings are siblings, and though he had made a grave mistake he wanted to make amends with her. So he set Orion’s shape into the stars, and that, right there—” she traces a line in the stars— “is his belt.”

“Did Artemis forgive him?” Iseult asks, not quite as interested in the story as she is in hearing Leliana continue to speak.

“Of course she did,” Leliana says, her voice soft and almost wistful. “They are gods, and they live forever. Eternity is far too long to hold a grudge.” She clears her throat, suddenly blushing under the gazes. “I.. It’s one of my favorite stories. I thought I might share it with you.”

“Thank you, Leliana. It was beautiful,” Iseult responds, caught on the way her cheeks turn pink in the night. There's a sort of magic in the scene, pushing at her to add _and so are you_ , but she holds it back. It's true, but a few hours after meeting someone is not the time to make such declarations. 

"I always loved that story, too," Alistair adds, huddling closer to Iseult, the comfortable weight of his arm resting on her waist. "It's sad, but beautiful. I just wish Orion didn't need to die."

"Artemis was a lone huntress," Iseult responds. "She was never meant to have a lover. He needed to die, so that she could be alone again."

Leliana hums. "So some people are born to be alone, is that it?"

"In legends," Iseult clarifies. There's a vein of hurt running veiled through the woman's voice, and she wants nothing more than to soothe it. "In this world, no one deserves that fate. We are nothing without each other." As if to illustrate the point, she leans her head on Alistair's shoulder. 

Leliana nods quietly, lost in thought, and it's a while before anyone speaks again. The sky is clear, pristine, mystical, and for a moment the story spun of Leliana's candyfloss voice seems like it is as much reality as myth. Artemis could step into the truck right now, right here. Is it really so far-fetched, when the stars glitter like that?

Leliana shivers. "Do you have any blankets?"

"Not a one," Alistair answers sagely. "Except the one we're lying on."

Iseult pushes herself away from Alistair, making room for Leliana in between them. Leliana hesitates only a moment before joining them lying down. She's tense, but it's not deep-rooted.

Alistair lifts an arm, pointing to another star— or no, it's too big to be a star, slightly more colored than the others that surround it. "There's Venus."

"The goddess of beauty," Leliana says. "Did you ever hear the story of her birth?"

"We haven't," Iseult says, even though Alistair has told it to her before. 

Leliana lightens. "Kronos was the one who led to her, in a way. He had at last come to a chance to kill his tyrannical father, Uranus, and when he performed the act, he castrated his father—"

Alistair makes a horrified noise, playing the part of the first-time listener, and Leliana giggles before she continues. "And threw his manhood to the sea. Aphrodite was born from that, in seafoam and the seed of a Titan. Others say that it was Zeus and his lover Dione who birthed her. But whatever she was…" Leliana's eyes find Iseult's, and suddenly Iseult is flushed and breathless with the attention. "All storytellers agree that she was the most beautiful woman who ever graced this world."

"You talk about her in the past tense," Alistair notes, brow furrowing. "People still worship her. All the Greek gods, in fact. What makes you say she doesn't exist anymore?"

Leliana smiles enigmatically. "I never said that. She does still exist. Every god does, in little places. You just need to know where to look." She gains a dreamy quality. "Roses blooming from dead bushes, there is Aphrodite. The energy of hunting, there is Artemis. The burn of the sun, there is Apollo."

Alistair hums. "I suppose so."

"How do you know?" Iseult asks, eyes locked on Leliana's.

Leliana raises her eyebrows slightly, gentle confidence radiating from her as if she were the moon. "Some things are too beautiful to be coincidence."

**illinois**

Sleeping on the bed of a truck, it turned out, was overall not a great idea. All three of them woke up in the morning with sore backs, Alistair especially, which was how they ended up with him in the back seat and Iseult in the front, Leliana riding shotgun.

They were about thirty minutes into driving when he fell asleep. Iseult and Leliana had been sitting in comfortable silence since, but as they passed the cornfields, green and whispering, it became too much to sit with only her thoughts. “What are you running from?” Iseult said, and immediately winced. She should have led with something else. Why would a woman who barely knew her open up about something that had instilled such awful fear in those lovely blue eyes?

To her surprise, Leliana answers, though with a degree of reluctance. “I suppose I should call her my ex.”

Empathy pierces through Iseult’s chest, and she gives Leliana a warm glance. “Don’t worry. She won’t find you where we’re going, I promise.”

Leliana is quiet for a long moment. “Merci bien, mon ami.”

Iseult chuckles. “It’s nothing, really.”

Even though her gaze is fixed on the road, distorting with the burgeoning summer heat, Iseult can feel Leliana’s eyes on her. “No,” she says softly. “I was a complete stranger, and you took me in. Why?”

Iseult fidgets on the steering wheel. She’d been biased when offering help to Leliana, because who wouldn’t have been? The woman was sunlight spun into a human form, prettier than strawberries on a dewy spring morning. Not just surface-level pretty, either, but a soul-deep beauty that resonated in the world around her as she passed, like flowers blooming in her footsteps. “My mother taught me never to refrain from helping when I could.” Her throat tightens. Her mother was still a bruise over the inner walls of her chest, tender to the touch. She coughs softly to try reducing the lump in her throat. “She… she died earlier this year.”

“I’m sorry,” Leliana offers, her voice not just sympathetic but genuinely understanding. “My mother died when I was very little, but… I can remember what it was like. Losing her.”

Iseult smiles weakly, a tear dripping down her cheek before she swipes it away with her sleeve. “Yes. My father, and my sister-in-law, and my nephew... they died with her. It was quite a loss.”

“Mon dieu,” Leliana murmurs. “And yet you still find it in yourself to be kind to people you hardly know.”

“They…” Iseult trails off for a moment, gathering herself. “They would have wanted me to do it. To become cruel in their absence, it would be a betrayal to all that they taught me.”

“That is a noble way of looking at it,” Leliana says.

“They were noble people.”

They fall into a silence until Leliana raises her voice again, this time posing a question of her own. “How did you meet Alistair?”

Iseult laughs, voice still tight with tears but slowly loosening. “We were neighbors. He and I got into all sorts of trouble together. He’s like a brother to me.”

“Oh.” There’s a hopeful note in Leliana’s songbird voice. “So you’re not… ah… together?”

At that, Iseult chokes. “Oh, God, no! He’s— I mean, I’m—”

“Not even a little bit?” She’s half-teasing, half-incredulous. “But he’s so handsome! And he makes the sausage so adorably.”

“He does _what?_ ”

“He jokes around. He’s silly,” Leliana clarifies.

“Oh.” She pauses a moment, her cheeks coloring, before she finds it in herself to continue. “He may be handsome, but I am no judge. I prefer women. Only women, that is,”

“Is that so?” Is Iseult dreaming it, or does Leliana’s voice have some satisfaction, a pleased tinge to it? Leliana _had_ mentioned that she had an ex-girlfriend, but no, this was all ridiculous, and Iseult should absolutely not be entertaining the thoughts that race through her head like wild horses.

She coughed, cracking open her window to try and release some of the sudden heat painted on her skin. “Do you, ah, want to listen to some music?”

Leliana smiles, and after a moment the opening notes of a soft jazz album come out of the speakers. Iseult happily loses herself in the music and the sight of the road. The cornfields are a blur of color as they pass.

**missouri**

“Take me home, country roads!” Alistair yells, spreading his arms in victory over the queen-sized bed, one of two in the motel room that they’d rented. They had stopped early at his request, and none of them were too hung up about it. The air in the truck had gotten particularly stuffy. It was nice to have actual walls around them, too. If that meant delaying their journey a little… well, they were in no rush.

“I think I might shower,” Leliana says dreamily, meddling with her hair, self-conscious for no reason. She is as lovely as ever, if a little dirtier.

“Okay, you first _,_ ” Alistair says. “But we _all_ smell like my truck.”

“Fair,” Iseult responds, sitting on the bed next to his head. He looks up at her, grinning, and doesn’t have to speak the next words for her to understand them: “And yes, Alistair, we can go to that diner you were eyeing. _After_ we get clean.”

He grins big and goofy, and Iseult’s heart fills with warmth at the sight. Truly, he is the only person in the world who can make her this ridiculously happy about spending her money on eating out. “I’m going to eat the _biggest_ burger. See, I told you I’d get you to try junk food.”

Iseult raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how many crisps you put away every day, Alistair Theirin. Your cholesterol intake is horrifying. Is this what America does to people?”

He whines, playing at offense. “I burn it off!”

“Tell that to your barricaded arteries.” She flicks him on the nose lightly. “Or are you learning some dark magic spell to keep them clean?”

In the other room, the shower starts, and Alistair immediately starts wiggling his eyebrows. “Speaking of blood flowing, Sei…”

She groans. He’s always been insufferable about her crushes. But even the horror of it doesn’t keep down a grin. “Oh, what is it?”

“She’s _cute,_ ” he teases, drawing out his vowels. “You _like_ her.”

“I’ve known her for less than two _days_ , Alistair. This isn’t primary school,” Iseult counters, not even trying to hide the blush that nonetheless spreads over her cheeks.

He just keeps wiggling his eyebrows until she whacks him in the face with a pillow. “Why you— you turncoat, you traitor!” he cries in mock horror, grasping a pillow of his own. “I’ll get you for that!”

Iseult laughs, keeping her grip on her own pillow and taking cover behind the bed. “Just you try it!”

He attacks her with a flurry, but she expertly bounces over the bed across from him, smacking him on the top of the head. “All brawn, hm?” she teases.

“Yeah, brain’s what I have you for, you little backstabber!” He launches his pillow at her, only for her to catch it.

She grins at him, leaping onto the bed, a champion of war wearing mismatched orange socks. “So we come to the end at last, my rival!”

“Not so fast!” He pulls the blanket out from under her, sending her sprawling on the bed, and holds it like a shield. “You may have the weapons… but can you compete with my shield of invisibility?”  
She gasps. “I am defeated! Oh, woe is me! Agony, agony!”

He lets out a triumphant laugh before both of them stop at the sound of a soft bark under the bed. “ _Shit!_ I forgot he was under there,” Alistair groans, peeking under the mattress to see the dark form of Cheese. “Did we bother you, boy?”

“Aww,” Iseult cooes. “Such a good puppy. We won’t do it again.”

She maneuvers herself into a more comfortable position on the mattress, Alistair taking up residence next to her. “So,” he says after a long moment of deliberation, “are you still going to buy me a burger, even though you’ve suffered the most terrible of defeats at my hands?”

Iseult chuckles. “Consider it your spoils of war.”

**kansas**

The night at the motel did more for them than Iseult could have predicted. The next day, she is rejuvenated in ways that only sleeping on the pristine mattress of a motel could provide, and Alistair was right— the diner had been a very good idea. She almost wishes they could stay another day in that tiny town they’d stopped in.

Then again, this is nice too. Alistair is driving again, and Leliana rides in the passenger seat, while Iseult sits in the back, legs stretched across the expanse of leather and Cheese half-asleep between them, his head resting on her thigh. Alistair seems, currently, to be telling a very enthusiastic Leliana about some occult ritual that he tried, involving goat’s blood and the hair of a cat and something about lizards. Iseult can’t help but start to doze off, his voice an old and familiar comfort and the soft weight of the dog on her. The sun isn’t high yet; the day is still just waking up.

She falls, and when she wakes again it’s only when they’re drawing to a stop.

She announces her consciousness with a yawn, stretching her arms. Leliana turns around, blue eyes teasing her. “Sleep well?”

Iseult coughs into her hand to cover a blush. “As well as I could in here. Why are we stopping?”

“Look.” Leliana tilts her head to one side, and Iseult follows the movement as Alistair parks the truck. The sun is poised at the vertex of the sky, and below it, nestled in a grove of sycamore trees, lies an entirely deserted playground.

“Cheese needs to stop,” Alistair justifies when he catches Iseult’s knowing look. “Also, I want to try the slide.”

Sometimes it’s like he’s never changed. Despite all the shadow that lurks in his edges, he’s still her Alistair, the same boy with scraped knees and muddy hands and an eye for adventure. Iseult just smiles and gets out of the car, following him and Leliana, Cheese bounding ahead of them on the tanbark path, dapples of shade dancing over his coat.

She leans against a tree, the smooth trunk cool against her arms, and watches. Alistair races Cheese up the tiny structure and pulls the dog into his lap when he slides down. They’re both puppies at heart, aren’t they?

Leliana sidles up to her, eyes dazzling like the blue sky above them. “Boys and dogs,” she says softly, watching them pull each other into a wrestling match.

Iseult chuckles. “They could be the cover of a children’s book.” She turns to look at the other woman, and how intense it is to see her pink lips, red hair, rose-tinged cheeks under the sun… it feels, almost, as though she is something too lovely to exist.

“Aphrodite,” she says under her breath, half-unaware that she’s saying it, and Leliana’s captivating mouth turns upward in a smile.

The moment is broken when they both turn away from the other. It feels like it’s shared for a moment, the fluster, but is it? Could it be? Leliana has magic around her. Iseult’s just a lost girl, wandering wherever the wind takes her, but the look in Leliana’s eyes, the memory of the starlight in her hair— maybe she is lost, too.

Maybe neither of them are lost anymore.

“Aphrodite,” Iseult thinks she hears, soft as the whisper of the breeze through the grass.

Cheese races to her and tackles her to the ground, and with a laugh it’s over, Alistair calling a war cry as he races to the dog. “You get away from my friend!”

Cheese growls playfully and takes off in a sprint across the park. Alistair follows, and this time Iseult does the same.

**colorado**

Iseult takes the wheel again when they pass state lines, and Leliana still rides in the passenger seat, singing softly under her breath like a siren’s idol. Iseult is Odysseus, tied to the mast for the ecstasy of hearing her, eyes flickering from the road to catch breathless Polaroid flashes of the woman: red hair fluttering, eyelashes dramatic and sunlit, brow a perfect curve. She is celestial, mythically beautiful. Or, no, mythical is not the right word: she _is_ a myth, Helen of Troy sitting in a rundown truck. And Iseult… well, Iseult is Paris.

There’s mountains, now. They’re closing in on the end, three states away from the promised land that feels, somehow, as though it is an afterthought to the journey itself. Iseult doesn’t quite want it to end.

The mountains are still distant silhouettes. It’ll be a while yet before they start to climb them, but already Iseult isn’t looking forward to those precarious, winding paths. 

Whatever Leliana’s been singing draws to a close, and hesitantly Iseult reaches for the radio dial to turn on some white noise. Leliana reaches, too. Their hands brush, skin turning electric, fingers shot through with lightning, and they both snatch their hands back. “Sorry,” Iseult manages. There is a fluttering want on her skin, a want that is too much. Three days since she met Leliana, and already she is a mess of tenderness for her. It should be simple. Attraction isn’t something she’s a novice to; there have been times, yes, when she’s met a girl as pretty as the sun and loved her for one night before moving on, never to see her again. This is different, an attraction from soul to soul and body to body, newborn and sensitive.

It might die when exposed to anything that needs weathering, but for now Iseult is happy to just bask in it. Leliana’s eyes flit to her, and yes, that is a blush that paints her cheeks in feather-light brushstrokes. “Non, c’est bon,” she says softly. “Did you want to listen to something?”

White noise is far inferior to Leliana’s voice in even the most mundane of moments. “No,” she replies with a smile. “Whatever you want, Leliana.” It’s a dead giveaway, the way she says her name, and she knows it; but Leliana turns red, smiling slightly, and Iseult decides that perhaps being found out isn’t so bad after all.

Alistair lets out a laugh, and in the rearview mirror Iseult fixes him with a glare. He chokes back the rest of his amusement, then winks at her, and she lets out a half-exasperated sigh as she fixes back on the road.

**wyoming**

“Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. Ninety-nine bottles of beer!” Alistair shouts, Leliana’s beautiful voice chiming in (her trained, musical tone wasted on it), Iseult grinning and singing along. They bump along the road toward their final destination, the sun beginning its slow descent downward but the sky still stubbornly blue. It’s gotten to the chaotic point in the day when all they have is energy with nowhere to put it. Alistair and Leliana are passing the remainder of the crisps back and forth while Cheese tries to bum one off anyone who will give in to his enormous, gooey puppy eyes.

Alistair suddenly stops singing and leaps to his feet, his head slamming into the roof of the car as he points to a billboard. “WET MICHAEL!”

“Have you finally lost it?” Iseult asks.

Leliana whips around, staring with wide-open, urgent eyes at Iseult. “Wet Michael!”

She squints at the billboard. It’s of a shirtless, well-toned man in a white Speedo, announcing “WET MICHAEL’S WATERSPORTS OPEN FOR BUSINESS” in enormous, blocky letters.

“What, do you want to stop?” Iseult asks, focusing her eyes back on the road.

Alistair just sits back in his seat, snickering like he’s drunk. Leliana, too, is melting into her seat, giggling. Iseult narrows her eyes at them.

“Have you been drinking?” she asks them both, only a little bit accusing.

Alistair spreads his arms. “I’m just high on life, baby.” At her continued silence, he sighs deeply. “Come on, Sei. We’re almost there! Aren’t you excited?”

“I don’t know,” she says. Leliana turns on the radio, and the soft tune of a guitar, disrupted by static, comes through. She savors the music for a moment. It’s a liminal space, country music crackling through the speakers, on the edge of afternoon and evening in a place she still doesn’t know.

They fall into silence. The chaos has subsided, if only for a minute or two. “This has been fun,” Iseult says finally, voice quiet. The radio is fading, coming back, and disappearing like tides on a coast.

“You say that like it’s ending,” Alistair says.

She blinks, because for a moment, there was melancholy. Her thoughts thumbed too close to the edge of a place she didn’t want to go.

That’s when Leliana picks up the tune again. “Ninety-six bottles of beer on the wall. Ninety-six bottles of beer!”

Iseult and Alistair start to sing along, horribly off-tune. It’s a balm to whatever had possessed the car for a moment, and the melancholy fades like a radio station going out of range.

**montana**

The door slams shut behind her as Iseult gets out, this time for good, and stretches in the cool air of the twilight.

“Is this it?” Alistair asks, looking wide-eyed at the two-story lodge, hewn from logs. It’s the size of a suburban house, nothing to scoff at, and all around them is nothing but forest and grassland.

“The Cousland cabin,” Iseult confirms. She’s never actually been here, and that makes it easy. It’s a new place, a place not drowning in her parents. It’s a place she can rebuild. “Go on in, Alistair. I need some fresh air.”

He goes indoors like an excited puppy, with the actual excited puppy right on his heels. Iseult just puts her forearms on the fence of the porch and lets out a long, tired sigh.

“Glad to be home?” Leliana asks, lilting and cheerful.

Iseult turns to her, eyes closing in the comfort of her voice. “Something like that.” When there’s a long silence, she feels the need to reaffirm Leliana’s place. “You can stay here as long as you want. I’ll go back to England in August, but if you want to stay even then, you can.”

“And if I want to go?” Her voice is mysterious. Iseult cracks open her eyes to see the rising moon reflecting in Leliana’s countenance.

Her heart sags at the words, but she forces a smile. “Then you can go. I wouldn’t keep you where you didn’t want to be.”

“You have been wonderful to me,” Leliana says, and for a moment Iseult fears that it means the end of their journey, past tense never to become future. Even then, it is hardly a negative. A memory like this is one she could hold onto forever, preserved like a picture in a magazine, never to be tarnished by the rusting touch of reality. But then Leliana continues, and Iseult feels her blood picking up its pace. “I thought you might want something from me, when you first offered help, but… You truly did just want to help, non?”

Iseult drifts closer. There’s a magnetism about Leliana that’s near impossible to resist. In the half-light, orange illumination spilling from the window into the cabin, she is a woman enchanted. Leliana’s hair is glowing like the sunset, her eyes like skies and rivers. “I did, and I do.” Leliana cocks her head teasingly, and Iseult goes pink, looking away. “I will never ask for more than you offer, and I will never bind you. But I am glad we met, Leliana. And I hope this isn’t where I stop knowing you.”

Leliana smiles. The cool pine air bites, but it’s less noticeable under the veil of a storybook moment. “What if I want to be bound?”

Her voice isn’t teasing there, it is downright seductive. “Whatever you want,” Iseult says, nearly dreaming. They drift closer, ever closer.

“What I want,” Leliana says, a breath away from her, “is you.”

She pushes forward, closes the last distance between them. Leliana’s skin is soft and heated, her lips delicate and sweet as spun sugar. It’s a kiss that exists in a timeless spot, everything and nothing, fragile and enduring. 

When they break apart, both hesitate for a moment, catching the breath that ran away from them.

The air has never been so welcoming. “Aphrodite,” Iseult says in a low, velvet tone, before she pulls Leliana into her arms and kisses her again.


End file.
